Five
by yoyopop10
Summary: Washington DC is overrun with with the undead. Robert McNamara, Fidel Castro, President Kennedy, and Richard Nixon are trapped in the pentagon with the zombies at all sides. All four have one thing in mind: Survival. This is they're story.
1. Chapter 1

Five

By: yoyopop10

Chapter 1

Meeting of minds

(This takes place directly after the opening cutscene)

"Board up the windows, one at a time!" Kennedy shouted, fumbling thorugh a crate of ammunition in search of a grenade for his China lake.

Nixon began tearing the place apart, shoving chairs and tables in the doorways in a feeble attempt to make a blockade.

"Too late for that, hombre. They coming in!" Castro shouted, pointing at the door and readying his bowie knife.

"Good god!" Nixon shouted, nearly falling backwards upon sight of the wretched creatures.

"Shoot them, you idiots!" McNamara said; putting a firm grip on the barrel of his Stakeout shotgun, before letting loose with a steady burst of pellets. The small bullets clashed into the zombies abdomens with bone crushing force; some flew back on impact of the shot. Others merely fell lifeless to the floor.

"Are you two going to help?" McNamara said angrily, trying to keep the continous stream of zombies at bay.

Just as McNamara spoke; Castro lifted his Python magnum and put a hole the size of a grape in one of the zombie's heads; followed by another, followed by another.

Nixon's uzi fire joined in as well once he was done with his fear tantrum.

"Stand back, men!" the three of them heard; and out came Kennedy with his china lake stuffed full of grenades.

"Jack is inbound!" He yelled; cocking his head as he always did when he felt it fit.

He pulled the trigger, and a grenade soured across the room like a bird in flight before exploding near the door with enough of an explosion to be considered a napalm.

Zombies flew left and right from the doorway as Kennedy shot off the china lake a few more times.

When the horde was pushed back enough; Castro and McNamara charged forward and kept them at bay while Nixon devised a frugal, yet helpful, barricade at the door. Sure enough; no matter how many times the zombies clawed at or bit the barricade; it stayed in place...at least for now.

The four retreated into the meeting room; breathing heavily.

"What the hell are we going to do? Cuba will be in up in arms over my loss!" Castro suddenly shouted after a few minutes of silence.

"Not so sure about that." McNamara muttered from his position across the table.

"What was that, gringo?" Castro asked, rubbing his bowie knife on the tip of his finger to test how dull it was.

"Everything would be so easier if the bay of pigs was succesful! We wouldn't have to put up with this!" McNamara stood from his chair and paced the room in a fast-walk.

"Put up with what?" Castro demanded; standing up angrily.

"You!" McNamara paused his walk back and forth; before pointing at Castro.

"Enough!" Kennedy shouted over the continous groans of the zombies just beyond the meeting room door.

"Things are worse enough without you two bickering back and forth." Kennedy slammed his palms on the desk in anger.

Suddenly, the lights shut off one by one; and infared bulbs replaced them. A big winding down sound was heard followed by a small explosion and a computer automated voice saying: "Automated systems activated. We are now at Defcon 5."

"What in god's name is that?" McNamara questioned; snatching his Stakeout from the table and gulping in worry.

"The power," Nixon observed the infared lights with a finger on his chin, "The generator must have switched off." Nixon said before walking to the corner to one of the ventilation shafts.

"By who? Either someone's trying to sabatoge us; or the zombies are actually that smart." Castro gulped, "Both outcomes are bad."

"Relax, gentlemen. Whatever happens; we have a steady barricade, weapons, and the will to survive. The three key things to coming out of this hellhole alive." Kennedy said, worriedly looking toward the door; the crowd of zombies was now twice as huge.

"Actually, Jack," Nixon began, "Now that we are moved to Defcon 5; The automated systems think the threat is none too urgent. Meaning the windows and doors that have been blocked will soon start to open; and I see alot of windows and doors. We will be overrun. Unless the generator is switched on; and we are moved back to Defcon 1: full alert."

There was a slight pause in the room;

"How the hell do you know this?" McNamara questioned after a few moments.

"I read the security panphlet. I was almost president, you know." Nixon said rolling his eyes.

"Alright, Dick. But how do you propose to get to the lower levels?" Kennedy asked, folding his arms.

Nixon smiled before picking up his uzi and putting a bullet in each of the hinges of the ventilation shaft. He anchored himself and pulled the vent from the wall; before calmly setting down aside it.

"We crawl." said Nixon.

There was yet another pause in the meeting room; where everyone was silent.

"But I'd like to keep the meeting room as our base. I don't think its very prudent to have all four of us travel in the ventalation shafts to the underbelly of the pentagon." Kennedy inquired.

"Why don't we split up?" Castro suggested. "There are four of us. Two crawl down and turn the power on; while two stay here and keep the barricades in check."

"Good plan, Castro. What do you think, Jack?" Nixon questioned.

"Sounds good to me. Who goes down?"

Nixon cocked his Uzi with a grin,

"It's my plan. I'll go."

Kennedy cocked his head towards McNamara and Castro.

"No way I'm gong down there, hombre." Castro shook his head while lighting his short cigar.

McNamara began rubbing the back of his neck, "I'm claustrophobic." He said silently, shamely. Waiting for Castro to chuckle.

"Very well. Castro and McNamara will remain here. Nixon and I will go to the lower level." Kennedy stood, grabbing a pistol from the weapon crate as well as his China Lake.

"Ready, Dick?" He asked, examining the small size of the vent.

Dixon nodded while crouching low and fitting himself in the small dark ventilation shaft.

Kennedy pivoted; facing the table where Castro and McNamara were seated;

"No fighting. In a time a like this, we all need to stick together to eradicate ths vermin." Kennedy pointed a finger at McNamara then Castro.

"Don't worry, Mr. President. No fighting. Stay safe." McNamara spoke softly; as if not to alert the undead to their presence.

"Jack, let us go." Nixon said from inside the vent and Kennedy followed him close behind.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The plot thickens

"You see anything?" Kennedy pondered as they crawled through the vents.

"Same answer as a few minutes ago, Jack. Its pitch black in here. No." Nixon replied shortly.

Kennedy groaned,

"Maybe I made a mistake coming in here like this." Kennedy said, trying to squeeze his way through the tight metal walls of the shaft; avoiding bumping into Nixon who crawled a few feet in front of him.

"Wait;" Nixon halted; as did Kennedy. "I see a little light a few feet down there." Nixon grunted and groaned. Wearing a three-piece suit in a crap ventilation shaft wasn't very prudent.

"The basement? Dick; what do you see?" Kennedy grilled; grasping the handle of his China Lake.

"I don't know; The vent is becoming...smaller." Nixon said through his teeth as he squeezed through the small shaft.

Suddenly a boom sounded; both Kennedy and Nixon halted.

It worried them even more when it happened again.

"Nixon; how much weight can these things hold at a time?' Kennedy inquired, gulping as sweat ran down his forehead.

"I-I'm not sure." Nixon said; also worried.

All of the sudden, one side of the vent curved downwards; and the air switched on.

"Uh-oh!" Nixon shouted over the heavy wind coming at them. The forceful air blew Nixon forward; he shot out into the basement and clashed against the hard floor; the impact knocked him out cold.

"Nixon! Nixon, can you hear me?" Kennedy shouted, but his feeble attempts to get in-touch with the unconcious man were useless. Nixon was screwed, being knocked out in the middle of a zombie apocolypse was horrid.

Suddenly, the critical condition of the small aluminum vent shaft collapsed down into the lower basement; and Kennedy went down with it. They were seperated.

Meanwhile in the Pentagon meeting room

Castro flicked the ashes of his cigar in a make shift ashtray he formed from a broken telephone he found.

"So Castro," McNamara began, "how are things?" he asked; trying to make small talk.

Castro blew smoke from his nose and mouth,

"Things are wonderful, Mr. Secretary." Castro chuckled, "I am stuck in a giant building. With two of the biggest culos I've ever met. Not to mention that stupido; Nixon. And 5,000 zombies trying to eat my brain."

McNamara sighed, being next to that man made his skin crawl.

"Like I said, McNamara. Wonderful." Castro smiled sarcasticly.

McNamara's fingers were grasped on his Stakeout firmly. How he wanted to reach across the table and put a couple shells into Castro's body...

If it weren't for Kennedy's orders; he would have already.

Suddenly, the automated voice came back on:

"Opening left doors. Access to the restricted areas is now approved."

Castro stood up nervously, his cigar held loosely between his lips. "I guess those idiotas haven't made it there yet."

"The meeting room is breached." McNamara noted, standing up with a pump of his stakeout.

They suddenly heard the moaning of the undead just beyond the newly opened doors.

"Hold them back, Secretary. I have inteligentes!" Castro yelled, grabbing his bowie knife and running towards the opposite corner of the room.

McNamara didn't care. Castro was a security risk; nothing more. As far as he was concered, he was much worse than the zombies.

The pellets of his constant shotgun slugs scattered across the minions of the undead. He was barely holding them back; as they crawled across the table of the meeting room; they're lips red with the lingering stain of crimson blood.

"Castro, I can't hold them forever!" McNamara shouted, methodicly stuffing shells into his shotgun before dismembeing the zombies with it.

No responce came from the opposite corner.

"Castro!" McNamara repeated.

The zombies were getting too close for comfort; and McNamara's ammo was quickly being used.

Suddenly, Castro soured from the shaddows weilding a Molotov cocktail.

"See if you can handle the burn; demonios muertos vivientes!" Castro shouted to the horde before underhandly tossing the bottle.

It exploded on the ground and the fire quickly spread to nearly the whole horde. The zombies collapsed; as if as soon as the fire touched them; they fell.

Castro took a deep breath on his cigar as the remains of the horde burned alive.

"Improvisation is the key to survival; Mr. Secretary." Castro held his bowie knife in his right hand; his zippo lighter in the other.

McNamara didn't acknowledged that Castro just saved his life. Instead he kept quiet.

"Without Nixon; our barriers will not be as strong." Castro chuckled to himself, "But i think we can hold out until the presidents return from their outing." Castro said, gathering bulky materials.

"Lets go, hermano!" Castro yelled when he noticed McNamara seated on the meeting room table; gawking at the pile of newly dead zombies.

After a sigh of frustration, McNamara reluctantly stood up.

"I'm not your hermano."


End file.
